


Devil's Bargain

by ndnickerson



Series: Devil's Bargain [3]
Category: Nancy Drew - Keene
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Jealousy, Nancy Drew Files, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-29
Updated: 2009-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:39:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy on Ned's wedding day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil's Bargain

She was dreaming and she knew it, but she couldn't stop.

Ned had her propped up on something, his hips wedging her knees apart, his mouth on hers. They were being quiet. They had to be quiet. He cupped his hands around her ass and yanked her forward, thrusting at the same time, and she cried out into his mouth, wrapping her legs around him, grinding her hips against his cock.

They were finished. He was going to be married. In her dream, he already was.

He was savage and she was shocked at how amazing it felt, to just let him possess her, with no questions, only demands. He pushed her bra down, freeing her breasts, the straps coming down to pin her upper arms, as he kissed the hollow behind her earlobe, his thrusts frantic and only getting rougher.

No, she told herself, and woke with the sheet twisted in her fist, heart beating wildly. She turned, from habit, but the bed beside her was empty and cold.

She had told Jonathan. At first, he had looked angry, but as she watched him, he had forced himself to calm down. He hadn't shouted, he hadn't begged. The makeup sex had been good, but, watching his face, turning over the scene in her head, she hadn't been able to come; she had managed a good approximation and watched him sleep while the clues clicked into place.

Ned would have shouted, screamed, made demands, been hurt. But Nancy knew how Jonathan's mind worked, and even if he had felt those things, it hadn't been for long.

Jonathan wanted his job at her father's firm. She was good in bed and she liked him and as long as he kept her happy, he kept her father happy. Confronting her for infidelity wasn't part of that plan.

Her returning the ring two days later, she was sure, hadn't been part of it either.

She sighed, clenching her thighs tight, willing herself not to think about it, but it didn't work. Frustrated, she tossed back the covers and shuffled into the kitchen, but she didn't want warm milk or anything else she could find.

He hadn't called her and she knew what that meant. Despite everything she hadn't wanted to let herself wish, Denise's baby was Ned's. They were still getting married in two days.

She stopped the tears before they could start, slumping down onto her couch. She wasn't going to cry for him anymore. She wasn't going to regret the last night she had spent with him, she wasn't going to regret letting herself feel it. Jonathan wasn't the one for her, but she would be able to find someone else. She knew that.

She had thought she was over him. She couldn't stay that way for long, though.

_But it's all right. Two days from now it won't matter if you're over him or not, he'll be out of reach._

She wiped at her eyes. Two days. She was sure that when it was over, once the deadline had passed, she would be able to turn the corner. She just needed to get through forty-eight hours. She just had to hold back for two days, not pick up the phone and call him, avoid him at all costs.

"So you don't want to get him back." Bess had listened, eyes wide, to Nancy's account of the conversation she had had in Ned's apartment. She had skipped the parts that involved their sleeping together, but Bess had been able to see it. Nancy had felt like she was full of broken shards, all grinding together instead of bones, especially after she had left Jonathan.

She still did.

"And what," Nancy had replied, echoing her earlier words. "And take him away from his child. And go back to him after what he did. I'm not going to do that."

"I'll believe you," Bess said, gazing at her speculatively, "when you tell me that you left his place before 7 a.m. the next day."

Nancy sighed. "It doesn't matter if you believe me or not," she said. "Because a week from now, he'll be married to her, and what happened between us won't matter."

"And when he calls you, late at night, telling you how miserable he is with her..."

"He won't. I won't take his calls."

"But you know he will."

Nancy dragged her hair out of her face. "So what. He made his choice."

Bess glanced down. "You mean like he did every time he took you back," she murmured.

"Look, are you on my side or not?" Nancy said angrily.

"Of course I am," Bess sighed. "You know I am. I think what he did to you was despicable and if you make up your mind that it's over, that there is no going back—"

"What do you think I've been doing?" Nancy asked incredulously.

"I think you've been saying all the reasons you don't want to take him back," Bess replied. "And if you want to turn your back on it, I can understand that. After what he did, maybe he isn't worth it, maybe he isn't worth another second of your time. But it takes half as long as you were in it with someone, to get over losing them. For three years you're going to have to put yourself back together every morning, and know that he's with her."

Nancy buried her face in her hands. "And what the hell am I supposed to do about that?"

"I don't know," Bess replied, "but I think you need to start with being honest with yourself."

"I am," Nancy managed to choke out.

Bess shook her head. "You're allowed to feel the way you feel," she said gently.

"No I'm not," Nancy said. "No I'm not. I'm not allowed to be selfish and if I see him again, I'm going to do something stupid and desperate, and if it takes three years, that's better than feeling guilty for the rest of my life for doing something so petty."

"Petty?" Bess's temper was rising, her concern clear on her face.

"Please," Nancy had begged. "I can't talk about this anymore."

"Nancy," Bess began, but Nancy had just shaken her head, and Bess had moved on unwillingly.

Nancy knew it was still true. She could live with dreaming about him every now and then, as long as she could blame it on that last night they'd shared. She could live with the fact that Ned was with Denise, if it meant his child wouldn't be growing up without a father.

She just needed to keep telling herself that.

She pulled the afghan down from the back of the couch and draped it over her legs, flipping on the television set. She didn't find much on so late; the movie channels were dangerous, because half the movies she had seen, she had watched draped over his lap on his parents' couch, with her head on his shoulder at the movie theater.

Two days.

_You do this and you damn yourself._

She shouldn't have stayed. She knew that. At least after their encounter in the alley, she'd had her anger to keep her away from him. Now she found herself reliving it, every single moment of it, the expressions on his face and the way he had touched her, what she had said to him, what she had wanted to hear him say to her.

But he didn't, she reminded herself, savagely punching the channel button. He hadn't said it. He didn't want her back badly enough.

_What, that's the kind of man you'd want to marry?_

The screen blurred as tears flooded her eyes again, and she swiped them away.

_Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter._

She slumped down, pulling the afghan over her head.

\--

It took that sleepless night to start the chain, and she began it simply, allowing herself just one chance.

_If Bess agrees to call Mike; if Mike tells her the answer; if, when I get there, they're still there..._

At any point, she knew, she could call it off, could walk away and forget the whole thing, except she knew that she wouldn't. That she couldn't. That if she denied herself this, she would wonder for the rest of her life what could have happened, if she had just been a little braver.

_Bravery has nothing to do with it. This is the height of cowardice._

Nancy shook her head, scrutinizing her outfit in the full-length mirror. Black leather micro-mini, garter belt, black stockings, come-fuck-me heels. White shirt knotted at her belly button, black lace bra underneath. She gave her wig one last tug, slicked on another layer of dark lipgloss, covered the entire outfit with a belted trench and headed out.

Through Bess, Nancy had substituted herself for the stripper Mike had hired for Ned's bachelor party. She had wanted to get close to him; the ruse would bring her a little closer than she had wanted, but at least it was a guarantee. Unless he saw through her disguise immediately.

But, she thought, flashing her ID at the door, that was the beauty of it. She looked like a stripper. He didn't think of her that way, so he wouldn't see her. Simple as that.

When she saw them, clustered in a knot near the stage, she took a deep breath, slid her mask on, and pulled on her elbow-length gloves. Ned was obviously drunk, and enjoying the ribbing from his friends almost as much as all the skin on display in front of him. She tapped him on the shoulder, then crooked her finger, gesturing wordlessly for him to follow. The boys raised a low ribald call and trailed along behind, and she could feel their eyes on her.

"Damn, Mike, good job."

"This is the only good thing about getting married."

She experienced a brief burst of momentary panic when she turned around to see them all gazing at her, some level of smirking leer on each face. This was the part she always hated about the undercover work, that eternity of skipped heartbeats before it all dropped into place and she could become someone else.

She bestowed a wide grin on Ned, ignoring that slight tremor in his expression, the jolt of faint recognition that even the alcohol couldn't dampen. "You ready for one last wild night?" she asked in the breathy voice 'Sindee' would have used, standing with her hands on her hips.

"God, yes," Ned replied reverently, bowing to her in mock submission, while the boys crowed behind him.

The trick, and it wasn't that much of a trick, considering, was to keep her gaze, her attention, all her energy focused on Ned. A few times she noticed Mike studying her, trying to figure out if she was who he thought she was, but Ned had long since given it up. She had covered all her moles and birthmarks, every way Ned could have recognized her body, but even as she slowly pulled one glove off and tossed it, still warm, into his lap, she almost wished he would look up at her, give her one slow deliberate wink.

_I told him to let me go. I told him if he loved me, to let me walk away._

The backbeat in the club vibrated up her spine, thankfully drowning out some of her audience's more suggestive comments. She was especially glad when she tore the skirt away, silently thanking Bess for the firm, if cryptic, recommendation that every girl needed a tearaway leather micromini. Enthusiastic clapping, wolf-whistles, and promises to show her the time of her life were her dubious reward.

Finally she was down to her underwear, the tie still knotted loosely around her neck. She pulled it off and slipped it around Ned's own neck, climbing up onto his lap, using the tie to pull his face against her cleavage. "Time for your lap dance," she said breathily into his ear, careful to keep from coming in direct contact with him. "Just follow me."

"I..." Ned tilted his head back to see her face, even as Mike punched him enviously in the arm. "I don't..."

"Come on, Ned, you're getting the deluxe treatment," Mike teased him back, the rest of the guys joining in. "Hey, I bet everybody would chip in some more if we get to see the whole thing."

"Yeah," they chorused back, digging for their wallets. Nancy slid off Ned's lap and pulled the tie, urging him to his feet. His response to her was obvious, and she knew that insistent little voice would plead her case more eloquently than she ever could.

When he still resisted, she grabbed his hips, sliding him forward as she stood between his open legs. Slowly, deliberately, she began to dance in front of him, brushing against him in brief but unmistakable intervals, until her hips were a hair's breadth from his. She stopped, and every man watching her held his breath, especially Ned, waiting to see what she would do.

"You won't regret it," she promised, and the quick contact of their hips told her everything she had already known.

He wasn't exactly willing, but when she led him by the tie he obeyed, stumbling along behind her, waving to acknowledge the catcalls and incredibly lewd suggestions the guys were shouting at him. In the room, barely bigger than a storage closet and lit almost as dimly, Ned seemed apologetic.

"I'm sorry, Miss, I—"

Nancy shoved the mask up. "It's me," she said.

Ned's expression went from apologetic and slightly embarassed, to relieved and exuberant. "Oh thank God," he mumbled, and then his mouth was on hers, his strong hands lifting her to perch her against anything that would remain stable long enough.

"Ned," she mumbled, closing her eyes, the dream returning like a barely repressed sense memory. She could feel it, the way he would smother her cries, the rough possession of his thrusts. The only thing that kept them from having immediate hasty sex was the uncooperative pair of panties she wore, chosen specifically to tititllate but leave more than not to the imagination.

She could feel his hands on her garters, fumbling with the snaps, his hips wedged snugly between her open thighs, when he slowly broke the kiss, tilting until his forehead was touching hers. "I'm sorry," he said, quietly, and let his hands drop, slowly put her back on the floor.

Part of her wanted to grab him, to pull him down to her again, but something in his expression stopped her. Even so, their gazes held, and she tossed her head, tears pricking behind her eyes, tilting her chin up. When he kissed her again it was deliberate, soft, final.

"It's tomorrow," he said against her mouth, and she could feel him shrinking away from her, anticipating the onslaught.

"So it's true."

He pulled back but didn't avoid the penetration of her gaze, and that almost made it worse. "I would have called you. I wanted to call you. I wanted... everything to be different."

She nodded, brushing at her eyes. "Ned," she began, taking his hands, feeling their warmth. "Please don't marry her."

He smiled. "I know. It feels like it should be happening to someone else."

Nancy shook her head, swallowing hard. "I'm not joking, Ned."

His smile faltered. "Nan... the baby's mine. And it doesn't matter how that happened, I'm not... I can't leave her alone with that."

"But she..." Nancy beat her fists against the wall behind her in frustration. "But she did this to you, you didn't make a choice, not really, and for you to take responsibility for this, I know..."

"You know? How do you know?" He took a step back from her. "What are you trying to say?"

Her mouth started trembling and she looked down, trying to calm it before she answered. "I forgive you," she said softly.

"Nancy, no, you can't—"

She looked up, not bothering to wipe at her eyes as she began to cry. "I don't want this either, dammit," she said angrily. "I don't want to be dreaming about you and I don't want to miss you this much and I hate, hate the fact that you knew what was going on and you didn't stop. Until the day I die I'm going to hate her for that. I will always know it. But Ned, I can't. I can't kill how I feel about you. I've tried. And I know you can't... and I can't see you anymore, after tomorrow, it'll hurt too much."

He grabbed her by the shoulders. "So that's it?"

"Isn't that enough?" She squirmed, trying to break his grip. "I'm an awful person and... Ned, I would get down on my knees and beg you not to marry her."

His gaze softened, but he shook his head. "All or nothing at all, huh."

"Yeah," she whispered. "If I can't have you... I can't pretend. And I don't want this to turn into something even uglier, Ned."

He sighed. "I'm always going to love you, Nan."

"But," she prompted, when he trailed off, avoiding her gaze. "But you can't."

He released her, to run his hands through his hair, and she put the mask back on, over her wet mascara-streaked cheeks, adjusting her stockings.

"I had to tell you," she said quietly. "I love you too."

Before he could answer she walked out, ignoring the calls of Mike and the rest of Ned's buddies, and her silence was enough to silence them.

\--

"I told him and he didn't care."

"Nancy?"

Nancy poured another glass of wine and drank it quickly. "I acted like a total idiot."

Bess sighed on the other end of the telephone line. "You told him how you felt and he actually told you that he didn't care?"

"He said it didn't matter," Nancy slurred, scooping up the bottle and carrying it and the galss with her to the living room. "He's gonna marry her. Because she had the fucking good luck to get knocked up. And he has to do the right thing."

"I can't believe that. So he wasn't interested at all?"

"He kissed me," Nancy admitted, staring at her wineglass as she filled it again.

"Like a peck on the cheek?"

"Like if I'd been wearing a thong—"

"That's... that's enough," Bess interrupted. "I get the picture. Are you all right?"

"Sure I'm all right," Nancy replied, but her tongue was too thick. It didn't sound right. "I threw myself at him. So it does matter. I was right. I was an idiot. And selfish. And he loves me—"

"I thought you said he didn't care."

"He'll always love me, like... like just because we dated for so long. Not because I fucking went down on him even after—"

Bes sputtered for a second. "Tonight?"

"No," Nancy sighed. "When... when he called me and we went to that diner and came back to his place and had sex like four times and when I left I told him that if he loved me he'd let me go. And he let me go. And he loves me. It's just not enough."

"Four times," Bess repeated.

"Bess," Nancy moaned in frustration.

"I'm sorry. What are you going to do?"

"Drink," Nancy replied firmly. "Until I can't see straight. Because if I am conscious when he's marrying that whore, I might just slit my wrists."

"You'd better say you were joking or I'm going to come over there right now and have you committed."

"I'm joking." Nancy twisted the wineglass's stem in her fingers, the glass loud against her coffee table. "Mostly joking. Tell me not to call him."

"Don't call him," Bess replied immediately. "You'll regret it."

"Oh, like I'm not already regretting enough," Nancy sighed. The last of the wine only filled a third of the glass. "Why doesn't he want me enough," she whispered.

"Because he's a fool and he doesn't know what he has," Bess said.

"He knows what he has." Her head was starting to pound; as soon as she finished off the glass she dragged herself to her feet and staggered back into the kitchen. "Bess, I need more wine and I'm too drunk to drive."

"And all the liquor stores are closed."

"Just go to the grocery store and get me a bottle of something cheap and red," Nancy begged, staring at the contents of her refrigerator, the cool air soothing on her flushed cheeks. "Bess, please. The guy I love is marrying some tramp in twelve hours," she said, her voice rising to a wail at the end of it.

"Nan..."

Nancy sniffled. "How can he love her more," she said, her voice shaking.

"Nan, don't cry. Please don't cry. I'll be over there in twenty minutes, okay? And we can talk about how much of a bastard he is. And we'll watch something funny. It'll be okay."

"Yeah," Nancy said glumly, closing the refrigerator and leaning back against it, her cheeks wet.

\--

She woke up with a searing anvil of a headache, her mouth painfully dry, an hour before Ned was getting married. When she glanced at the clock, her face crumpled, and she pulled the comforter back over her head.

Per Bess's vehement advice, she hadn't called Ned. She had half-dialed Jonathan's number a few times, though.

"You need to give yourself some time," Bess had said, her face serious until she had started laughing. The wine went straight to her head. "There'll be someone else."

"But John _cares_ about me," Nancy wailed, then started giggling, because it was either that or drink another glass. At three o'clock in the morning cable was just fifteen-year-old made-for-TV movies, starring people she found vaguely familiar doing completely predictible and incredibly boring things. Even so, Nancy jumped when the killer, an overtanned middle-aged man who seemed to think eye-bulging intensity was his best intimidation technique, cut through the whimpering heroine's front door with a chainsaw.

"Fuck, I wasn't even expecting that."

Bess glanced around muzzily, carefully. "Got anything to snack on?"

"Bag of chips in the cabinet," Nancy said, practically slack-jawed in awe as the killer casually tossed aside his prop chainsaw and set out on his default speed of 'vaguely menacing.' "It's getting good!"

"Right," Bess called back, sarcastically.

On an especially dramatic musical cue the movie cut to commercial and Nancy flopped back onto the couch cushions, gazing up at the gently moving ceiling. So she'd thrown herself at Ned. Spectacularly awful and cliche thing to do, but no harm had come of it. Except that now, her desire to call him was successfully drowned by the certainty that she had been too late, that maybe it had all been too late.

"You know what? Fuck him," she said loudly, lurching forward to pour herself another glass. "Fuck him. I told him..."

Bess came back in carrying a plate of cheese and crackers, dropping it unceremoniously on the coffee table to slide a comforting arm around Nancy's shoulders as her friend's lower lip began to shake. "I know," Bess soothed. "I know. Nan, it's all right."

Nancy shook her head morosely, taking a long sip from her wineglass. She swept her hair back from her face. "He doesn't love me anymore. John didn't really love me. And I know it because he didn't get mad when I told him about Ned, and if he loved me, he would have gotten mad about that. Right?"

"Unless he's a soulless robot," Bess affirmed, offering Nancy a cracker with cheese, which she declined.

"And I... you think I could call Frank?"

Bess opened her mouth to lodge an immediate protest, but nothing came out. Her brow furrowed a little, and she swallowed her bite. "I would say it's guaranteed to make Ned jealous, but that's not really what we're going for, is it."

Nancy shook her head again, sadly, and Bess groaned aloud. "God, I'm sorry. I think Frank is a good plan, okay? No pesky illegitimate children to cloud the issue or anything. Just... well, unless you're looking for a sympathy fuck, how about wait until it's not the night before... you know."

Bess had come fortified with not one but two bottles of cheap red wine, so the end of the television movie was entirely out of her memory, even though she was sure she had seen it. She remembered that Bess had fallen asleep well before Nancy herself had been able to, though. And after, while she was busily throwing up everything she had eaten in the last twelve hours, she had let herself sob, disconsolate, without fear of hearing Bess's hollow comfort.

She knew she wasn't fine, and that she would be. The jump between, though, was inconceivable. And the hardest part was going to be living through that hour, through the moments when Ned was exchanging vows with that damned whore.

Once she was awake, Nancy found it impossible to go back to sleep. The mere act of breathing made her feel unpleasantly full and nauseated. She pulled herself gingerly from the bed, wrapped herself in a bathrobe, and stumbled into the living room. Instead of a gently snoring Bess she found a tossed-back afghan and a note from Bess wishing her better and asking her to call when she woke up. Nancy let it drop back onto the coffee table.

The minutes crept with heart-lurching slowness. Nancy took a shower, but she looked at her shampoo and thought of him, her toothbrush and thought of him, half the contents of her underwear drawer and remembered which sets were his favorites and which ones he had practically pulled off her with his teeth.

Twenty more minutes until the ceremony.

Nancy tugged a t-shirt on, over her wet hair, and plugged in her hair dryer, wondering at first why she was even bothering to dry her hair, why she had bothered to take a shower at all. Then she found herself wondering, as she mechanically combed and dried her hair, if she would feel it, if some small internal change would alert her when Denise was actually his wife. She had felt no warning, the night Ned's child had been conceived; given the implications of that single event, expecting even for a moment that the exchange of their vows in front of a minister would carry even the faintest psychic signal to her was ludicrous.

Still, she thought, grimacing with nausea as she tipped her head forward to dry her hair. At least then it would be something. One last thing.

She put in a movie she hadn't seen yet, hoping to distract herself, but there were only five minutes left to go and she couldn't stop glancing at her watch, every five seconds, watching the time dwindle. Denise would be in her long, undeservedly-white gown, veiled in some mockery of ceremony, smiling at Ned as she made her elaborate entrance. Maybe he would feel some pang, some momentary doubt, and for a brief instant she was so seized by the urgent desire to know if he had any second thoughts that she had the phone in her hand before she realized what she was doing.

No.

And she thought then, of all the things she should have said, all the arguments she could have made, about how raising a child when he didn't love the mother was just foolish, about how Denise had chosen to carry the child without Ned's consent or desire and he wasn't obligated to any responsibility attached to that fact, about how she had basically raped him and taken away all his ability to consent when she had slept with him. About how Nancy had never been more wrong in her life, about how much of a hypocrite she had been when she had refused to forgive him for doing something only the barest circumstance had separated her from doing herself.

And she did love him. And she did, still, hate herself for it, because all it was doing was eating her out from the inside.

The clock ticked over and Nancy slumped onto her side, the movie blurred by the veil of her tears.

When her cell phone rang she scrabbled for it, sick at how desperate she was to see Ned's name on the screen. She was greeted by her grainy camera-phone photo of Bess, though, and managed a small smile as she answered it.

"I was hoping you weren't awake," Bess said, a little meekly.

"Me too," Nancy replied, her throat rough. "Thanks for coming over last night."

"Not a problem," Bess said lightly. "You know I'm always here for you. And, on that note, George and I are going to the movies in about an hour, want to come?"

"I... don't know," Nancy hedged, suddenly wanting very much to get off the phone and, despite how her stomach roiled at the thought, get incredibly drunk again. She glanced at the clock and very nearly threw up. _She's walking in right now_, Nancy thought.

"Look, she doesn't care if you're sitting at home," Bess pointed out. "It's not hurting her any. Have you eaten anything yet?"

Nancy snickered. "You must not be nearly as hungover as I am."

"I'll sneak flat ginger ale and crackers into the movie with me," Bess promised. "Come on. We'll eat, put sugar in her gas tank, watch a movie, have some fun. Go take a shower. I'll be by to pick you up."

"I've already taken a shower."

"Perfect. Change out of the sweatpants. See you soon."

"Bess," Nancy sighed. "I really appreciate it..."

The phone made a muffled noise. "Nancy, get your ass in gear," George ordered. "Turn off the sad whiny music, put on something Bess'll approve of, and we'll be there in ten minutes."

"I'm not listening to sad whiny music," Nancy protested, laughing despite herself. "Really. Just sitting here watching a movie."

"If it's _Casablanca_ I'm going to punch you," George promised.

"No. God. You two aren't going to give up, are you."

"Not at all," George said cheerfully. "Oh, and I've already told Bess, next time you two get drunk, I expect a phone call."

Nancy hung up the phone, chuckling, and stopped the movie, heading to her closet to find an outfit Bess would approve. She couldn't stop glancing at her watch, though.

_It has to have happened by now._

She shook her head briskly, regretting it immediately when the room started spinning, and pulled on an elegantly draped top. She ached. How long she ached was up to her.

She stared at herself in the mirror until she was calm enough to put on mascara, and by the time Bess called to announce their arrival, she was able to manage a smile.

Considering the number of break-ups Nancy and George had seen Bess through, the three of them had the routine down to a science. Candy, popcorn, and drinks were all juggled from the concession stand to the theater, with extra butter and extra napkins. The movie was a ridiculous horror flick that had Bess cowering in her seat and Nancy and George crowing with mocking laughter. When the plot grew sluggish, between brief intense sessions of gory dismemberment, George and Bess kept Nancy's attention with bright whispered chatter about the relative stupidity of the stars and potential cases they had heard about.

"You know, there've been all those break-ins at the apartment building near my work. Four in the last month," Bess pointed out.

"And I've heard that environmentalists are sabotaging the aquarium," George chimed in.

Nancy smiled. "Look, I'm glad you guys are keeping an eye out for crime to cheer me up, okay? I'll be all right. I've been all right before."

"Yeah, but nothing can cheer you up faster than a dolphin kidnapping," George said firmly, stealing another handful of buttery popcorn. "God, this stuff is gross," she said, popping a kernel into her mouth.

Bess shot her an arch look, keeping her other eye mostly covered just in case something frightening was about to happen. Not a bad guess, Nancy thought, given the heavy musical cues. "Well, that's the point; you'll be fine. So really. Is there anything you could do?"

Nancy shrugged, scanning the screen for any hint of the villain. "Dad's asked if I can help him out with some trial prep," she shrugged. "If nothing else comes up."

Bess nodded firmly, if only the slightest bit uncertainly. "That sounds fine."

"Bess," Nancy said quietly, nodding at the screen.

"God!" Bess gasped, as another henchman took out an unsuspecting co-ed. "Looks just like that guy I dated in tenth grade!"

After the movie the three friends dropped by the specialty ice cream parlor, where their tickets earned a discount. George, muttering disgustedly about the popcorn, ordered a small cup of nonfat frozen yogurt. Bess, crooning enthusiastically over the new double-dipped waffle bowl, ordered two scoops of premium chocolate ice cream topped with every imaginable candy bar. Nancy split the difference and ordered lowfat ice cream drizzled with caramel and almonds. They managed to steal a table near the window, looking out on the parking lot, as the mass of gum-snapping teenagers and young parents in line surged up to the refrigerated case.

Nancy was halfway through her cup of ice cream before she remembered to set her cell phone on audible again. "Huh," she murmured, seeing the symbol for two missed calls. Her heart leapt, but the number was unfamiliar.

"Please, please tell me it was Johnny Storm," Bess begged, her eyes wide with only partially faked enthusiasm.

"Yeah, right," George responded, nudging her shoulder. "Maybe it's Chief McGinnis."

"No," Nancy replied quietly, calling the number back. "It looks like a local number, but... it just keeps ringing. Hmm."

"No voicemail?" Bess asked.

"No. Maybe it was a wrong number." She shrugged and put the phone back in her purse, trying to hide her disappointment.

"I say we go try out that new Thai place," Bess spoke up, crunching down on her waffle bowl.

George glanced incredulously from her cousin to the remains of her ice cream. "We're trying to cheer Nancy up, not give her a heart attack."

"Oh shut up," Bess shot back.

Nancy tuned their bickering out, swirling her spoon in her ice cream, her appetite vanished._They're halfway to Tahiti,_ she thought, then sighed, willing herself out of it.

"What if I never find anyone else?"

Bess and George stopped mid-insult and turned to gaze at her. "Nonsense," Bess replied first. "Want me to prove it? If I got up on this table and asked who'd bid on a chance, just a _chance,_ to go on a date with you, I bet we'd be up to a thousand dollars in the first minute."

Nancy smiled. "As long as he's not a creep."

"Or a spy," George added. "I mean, for another government."

"And he has to be smart," Bess said, taking another thoughtful bite of her waffle cone.

"And cute."

"And laid back," George said. "At least a little."

They continued the list in the car, with Bess navigating and George providing the distraction. Eventually their composite perfect guy for Nancy was either James Bond or Batman.

"Batman is so dreamy," Bess sighed, cautiously pulling into a parking spot at their favorite bowling alley.

"And weak," George scoffed. "Anyone under that much body armor can stand up to someone."

"But maybe not maneuver very well," Nancy suggested. "And besides, James Bond? He has a different girl every movie."

"_Like_ James Bond," George repeated. "In the suave, debonair, looks great in a tux way. Not so much the riddled with STDs way."

Five minutes later, each shod in fluorescent bowling shoes, the girls picked through the house bowling balls. By the time Nancy made it back to their lane, a pearlescent teal model cradled in her hands, Bess had returned with nachos and a pitcher of beer. The first glass made her nervous, but by the second, her form was thoroughly off and she couldn't have cared less.

"Who needs a guy," Nancy announced moodily after a dismal frame, crossing her arms and slumping down in her seat. "All we need is each other. We need to do this more often. Why don't we?"

"Because you have cases," George replied, holding the ball poised as she eyed the pins. "And Bess's fifteen-minute boyfriends are usually over weekends."

Bess covertly shot her cousin the bird. "We really do need more girl time," she agreed, then stuck her tongue out at George's back. "And another pitcher of beer, dammit."

Nancy was on the upswing, confident that she was going to wake up the next morning with a fresh slate and a glorious outlook on the world, one chapter of her life closed and a new one just beginning, when her phone rang. She fished it out of her purse, and the number, while similar to the other unfamiliar missed call, was a few digits off. She stared at it for a few seconds, as Bess shot her ball down the lane on a doomed trajectory, skating right into the gutter just before reaching the pins.

"Same number?" George asked.

"Not quite," Nancy said, deciding not to answer it as it clicked over to voicemail. "I've had a few prank calls recently, it's probably some drunk high school kid wanting to impress his friends."

Bess stomped back over, brow furrowed. "Why do we play this stupid game anyway?"

"Because I'm great at it," George said sweetly.

Nancy had just dropped her phone back in her purse when it started ringing again. Same number. She sighed, flipping it open. "Hello?"

"Nan?"

She almost dropped the phone. "Ned? ...What?"

"Where are you? I can barely hear you."

"It's your turn!" Bess called. Nancy hung up a finger, standing, glancing around.

"Go ahead and take it, I'll be right back," she mouthed, heading for the door.

"Where the hell are you?" she asked Ned, shouldering the door open and walking out into the parking lot, still in her hideous rented shoes. "This is a local number."

"Pay phone."

"Why?"

"Long story," he sighed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm..." She stopped, momentarily speechless. "Bowling with Bess and George. What... why the hell are you calling me?"

"I was going to suggest that we meet at R&amp;W, but it sounds like you're busy."

"I... what time?"

"Half an hour," he replied, offhand.

"I'll see what I can do. How can I reach you?"

"You can't," he said. "Well, not right now, anyway. I'll get a booth and if I see you, I see you. Although I really do... want to talk to you."

"Okay," she said lamely, clicking her phone shut.

Rawley &amp; West was a sports bar downtown, cleaner and brighter than most. After making Bess and George swear that they would go home and wait for her update instead of walking in with her and giving Ned a piece of their minds, she had them drop her off, and walked in, butterflies rioting in her stomach. Ned was sitting at a corner booth, his face drawn with exhaustion.

"Hi."

"Hey," Nancy said, sliding into the booth opposite him. "Why aren't you on a plane to Tahiti right now?"

"Because I called off the wedding last night." Ned's gaze was warm on hers, and Nancy almost choked, unable to believe what she had just heard.

"You're joking."

Ned shook his head and took a sip of his beer. "No. Definitely am not joking."

"With like twelve hours to go."

"A little less than that, actually," Ned admitted. "Did you know there's wedding insurance now? I didn't. And we didn't have any."

"Do... do you mean that you needed to reschedule it...?"

He shook his head again, and Nancy started blinking rapidly, unable to take her gaze off him. "I mean... well, I called her, told her I couldn't go through with it, and she cried, and that?" He dusted his palms, then nervously began to push a beer mat around the table. "That was pretty bad. Then she told me that she was going to take me for all the child support she possibly could, and I'd never be able to see my son."

"Your son?"

He nodded, not quite meeting her eyes. "Yeah. Boy. We're having a boy. And then her parents called me and said I was responsible for half the cost of the wedding, and I swear, they must have bought a solid-gold Rolls for what they're sticking me with."

"So they aren't happy."

"Oh... that'd be putting it mildly," he replied, and downed the rest of his beer, then signaled for another.

"And you called me from a pay phone?"

"She managed to get a few hours' sleep, but as soon as she woke up, she wouldn't stop calling me. I turned my ringer off so she started calling my cell, and when her father threatened to castrate me, well, I decided maybe I should find somewhere other than my apartment to be, for a while."

She nodded. "I can understand that."

The waitress came with Ned's fresh beer and took Nancy's order for a water, and a silence fell between them. Every television she could see was tuned to a different game, and Ned kept glancing up at the teams and scores, but he was still idly pushing the mat around the table, still nervously tapping his fingers.

Nancy readjusted her purse strap on her shoulder, afraid to put it down, to act like she was actually comfortable. "So why'd you call me?" she asked quietly.

Ned shrugged. "Did I mention they're suing me for breach of contract?" he asked, a manic cheer glowing in his eyes. "I was wondering if you knew a good lawyer."

"I know a few," she said lightly. "That's what you wanted?"

Ned shoved the bar mat in a quick, disgusted gesture, and it bounced off the wall and into his seat. "I feel like I'm coming out of my skin," he muttered.

"Are you mad at me?"

Ned met her gaze. "Honestly? A little," he said. "After that little stunt you pulled last night... I just wish you'd told me sooner."

Nancy put her hands flat on the table in front of her. "When I spent the night with you, I asked you—"

"I know you did," he interrupted, agitated. "You asked me not to go through with it but you offered me nothing in return."

"Nothing in return?" She could hear her voice rising, but couldn't stop it.

He made a quick dismissive gesture. "You said you couldn't forgive me, and I believed you," he shot back. "I told her I couldn't marry her, but Nan, nothing had changed. Nothing had changed except that you told me you still loved me. Why did you do it?"

"Because she raped you," Nancy said, her hands closing into fists. "She stole what we were supposed to have and blackmailed you into marrying her, and—"

Ned's eyes were wide. "Nan, she... it wasn't like that."

Nancy's mouth tightened into a thin line. "Did you lie to me about what happened that night?"

"No," he sighed.

She shook her head. "Do you think just because you're a guy, that it doesn't count if you aren't asked and if you don't want it?"

"I..." He stared at the table. "Just don't call it that, okay?"

"That's what it was," she insisted, gazing at him. "If you were drunk and not even aware of what you were doing, then yes. I have every right to be mad at her. Because you didn't cheat on me. Maybe," she shrugged, as he turned his guilt-stricken gaze on her, "maybe you did want it a little bit, but I know you have a point of no return, and I'm sure she knew it, too. And it's ludicrous for them to be suing you over a wedding she blackmailed you into, when her parents are loaded."

Ned's mouth quirked in the ghost of a smile.

"Ned, I swear, I tried. I... your son, God, it's not that I don't want him to have a father, but the point is that you are his father, will be his father, regardless of whether you're married to her."

"I will," he said, his voice low and serious. "I am his father."

"So... I couldn't talk myself out of it anymore," she shrugged. "I love you. Too much, apparently, since it could survive this."

"I wouldn't call it too much," he replied, smiling.

"Of course you wouldn't," she said. "You staying at a hotel tonight?"

He shrugged and took a long sip of his beer. "Probably. Hadn't really thought about it."

"Well... I have a couch, if you need a place to crash."

He glanced up, holding her gaze. "That's very kind of you," he said slowly. "As long as you realize that I haven't been able to shake the memory of you in that stripper outfit last night."

She shook her head. "Couch," she said firmly.

"Yeah," he sighed. "We're not... back to normal, yet."

"Do you think we can ever honestly be normal again?" she asked him, slightly incredulous. "You're going to be a father in a few months. I just broke up with my fiance. We both need time, to figure out what we want. We can date. We can have fun together." She smiled.

"Can you promise me something?"

"Maybe."

"If... we ever, get back to... well, whatever the hell it is that we have," he shrugged, "will you give me that lap dance you promised last night?"

"If that's all you can say right now—" she began, angrily.

"Just make it my wedding present," he said softly, holding her gaze.

"You mean if we get married."

"I think if anything on this earth can prove that we were meant to be together, it's this," he replied. "I was going to be miserable the rest of my life, and when you told me that you had forgiven me, it was like a thousand pounds off my shoulders. I have never wanted anything as much as I need you. And you know, now, and you're still here."

She nodded. "So let's see what happens," she said quietly.

"Okay," he agreed, reaching for her hand.


End file.
